Stars, Dreams, and Other Faults
by Cassandra Royal
Summary: Loki chuckles, a mirthless rumble of impending rage, "You just happened to wish upon the one, single thing in this entire universe that can actually grant you what you want: something different." His eyes meet hers, and the dark gleam in them makes her breath hitch in rising fear. "Let me assure you, Jane Foster, that you won't be disappointed." Multiverse AU, Post-Thor: Dark World


**Official **_**Stars, Dreams, and Other Faults **_**Summary****:**

_Loki chuckles, a mirthless rumble of impending rage, "You just happened to wish upon the one, __single_ _thing in this entire universe that can actually grant you what you want: something different." His eyes meet hers, and the dark gleam in them makes her breath hitch in rising fear. "Let me assure you, Jane Foster, that you won't be disappointed." _

_AU Style: Multiverse _

_Setting: Post-Thor: The Dark World, but doesn't follow beyond_

_Main Pairing: Lokane_

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**~Stars, Dreams, and Other Faults~**

**Chapter 1**

**~Breakaway~**

.

_I'll spread my wings_

_And I'll learn how to fly_

_Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye_

_I gotta take a risk, take a chance_

_Make a change, and __breakaway_ _. . ._

-Kelly Clarkson, _Breakaway_ lyrics

.

_I realized too late_, Jane thinks dismally. _Too late... _

She sighs against the cool glass, her forehead carefully resting at an angle that allows her to witness the outside world. Rain patters along the glass, staining and cascading down the clear surface in a waterfall of falling tears. At least, they seem like tears. Jane herself holds them in, attempting to quell the sick emotions that continue to haunt her since returning from the Dark World.

She doesn't love him. She realizes that now, and yet, she feels terrible, lost in a sea of emotions without land to anchor her down.

She doesn't want she has.

She wants something different.

"And what is it that causes this, Jane?" a voice asks. That voice is deep, sorrowful, and all she wants to do is push him away. "This bleak atmosphere that surrounds you so?" She feels him near her, and she doesn't want his presence of eternity. She doesn't want him.

But she doesn't know what exactly she wants, and she knows that she's grasping at empty straws. She knows she's simply asking for too much, but she doesn't want this life. Not with him. "Please," she says, calmer than she had anticipated it would come out. "Please, just go. Return to Asgard, become their king. Just leave. I won't follow you anymore, Thor." She's tired of following, of searching for something that she doesn't actually desire with her whole heart. Only the stars had shined with such desire in her life, but those dreams of stars have also dimmed from their original prosperity.

Jane Foster feels like a shell of her former self, and she isn't sure when it had started. Beckoning away her foreseeable future is the only way to clear a new path, to begin again. To leave this wretched place of her past.

"Jane-" he begins.

"No!" she snaps, pulling away from the window to face him. "Enough, Thor! I've told you this for over a week. Now, please, just go. I can't deal with this anymore."

"Deal with what exactly?" Thor inquires, his voice far from threatening. Instead, it's tinged with sorrow and confusion. "My presence? My existence? I do not understand your displeasure, Jane."

"It's everything!" Jane explodes, and she sees him flinch back. She cracks under that pain. She doesn't want to hurt him with her problems, he's done too much to her, but she also knows that she simply doesn't want him anymore. "Everything..." she whimpers. She feels tears at the back of her eyes, and her voice goes soft, broken, constricted against her inner workings. "I-I just can't stand it anymore..." Her gaze descends to the floor. She can't witness that look he has, she can't, or else she'll shatter in front of him. He'll only attempt to pick up the pieces of their past after that, and try in vain to bring her back to him. She can't have that. They're both better off without one another.

Her lips quiver, but she's unyielding in her resolve. "Just go!" she says again, hoping desperately that he would simply listen to her.

"Fine," he says resolutely, painted with the setting sun of their end. "I do not understand your reasonings, Jane, but I will go... Just remember this." Her eyes meet his for one final time, the pain reflecting in both of their shining irises, tainted by tears. He takes a breath. "Remember that I will always defend Earth, including you, Jane Foster, as I have since the days in New Mexico." He tries to smile, but it's rueful. "Farewell, my love."

His armor appears, combining together in the metal and leather of the Mighty Thor. His hammer flies from its position against the coat-rack, landing with a heavy smack against his palm. She opens the balcony doors for him, her hands shaking uncontrollably, fumbling for the latch. The rain never touches its creator when he steps outside, adorned in the warrior attire of Asgard. He's the Crown Prince that he is, the man he's meant to be. She knows this is right from the bottom of her heart.

Soon he's ascending into the sky, nodding goodbye to her for a final time. Eventually, he's no where in sight, forgotten amongst the in clouds in which he commands.

She doesn't know where he's gone until a rainbow beacon lights up the London sky, striking mercilessly through the rainclouds and radiating down to earth for only a moment, before the world returns to its usual state of normalcy. The rainclouds disperse quickly thereafter, and she watches in muted fascination as sunlight reappears through the dreary atmosphere, shining down on earth in angelic and heavenly columns. One even has the generosity to glance her way, and she smiles a little.

She knows that everything is simply for the best, but she still has to blink the tears out of her eyes as she heads to the kitchen.

.

The Tesseract is glowing unnaturally bright, he notes distastefully. He had actually felt the undulating pulse of its power from within his chambers minutes before, and he had momentarily casted himself into the Vault to further inspect it. It's a troubling prospect that it's intentionally activating itself, and for reasons unknown. It means that _something _happened. But what? It hasn't been active for nearly two years, why has it now awakened? He brings a finger to his lips, tapping it thoughtfully. He quirks a brow as it brightens even more, blasting out an pulse of its own cerulean essence in a wave.

He hasn't witnessed this side of the Tesseract. It's as if its calling out to something, or perhaps, someone. He smiles, a devious flash of mischief and wonder. "Why now," he purrs. "Do you miss someone? If so, I'd _gladly _locate them for you." It begins to shake, and he finds this thoroughly amusing. "What are you hiding?"

Another artifact then wrenches his attention away, now glowing a familiar brilliant cerulean hue, probably from the previous shot of pulsation. The Oneiroi, a type of mystical book. The pages, usually blank with ancient, yellowed parchment, are flapping and fluttering uncontrollably, slicing through the air in a whirlwind of turns and redirecting itself. He glances from one artifact to another curiously, albeit a hint of wary alertness haunts the edges of his mind. One is never too trusting of the Tesseract's power. Norns know that the Infinity Stones are unpredictable and just as hungry for power as he is.

_Crack._

His emerald eyes widen, and he quickly evades a glassen onslaught of shattered remnants of the Tesseract with a transportation spell. He watches from behind the mounted book as the remnants weave themselves into the forlorn pages, embedding themselves and creating images in certain ones, but still the pages fly across the leather bindings. He barely manages to catch a single piece of the speedy remnants, but clasps it between his thumb and forefinger, unrelenting in his grip, even as it dares to wiggle out. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" he bites out. "You're not going anywhere."

The Oneiroi abruptly ceases its constant change in direction, settling for a single page at the beginning edge. He eyes it with an aire of depreciation, wholly aware that he needs to keep it from causing trouble. He needs to keep his identity secret, as he is masquerading as the All-Father, and Prince Loki is technically dead, _technically_.

The page is colored in an ancient style, reminiscent of a method far before his time, more than likely when the book itself was created. When he thinks about it, he remembers a vague memory of his mother fondly lecturing him about its history. Apparently, the Oneiroi is the only way through dimensions, through dreamworlds and fantasies that actually exist, and brings a certain 'person' every thousand years into these worlds that the book itself chooses. It's an odd fairytale-styled reality, one that he can imagine, be instilled within Midgardians myths. But he also knows full well the meaning behind fairytales, since half of them just happen to be entirely true. He's real, after all, despite Midgard's obvious misconceptions about his history.

However, he hadn't realized before that the Oneiroi has to be combine with the Tesseract in order to be fully-functional. The Soul Gem and the Space Gem... They're a powerful duo that can ultimately bring chaos, and while it's tempting to unleash them upon the Nine Realms, he has more important matters to attend to than that. Another day he would indulge himself, but not today.

That being thought, he still has to contain the energies they're emitting before they become unstoppable. He briefly considers simply casting the two off onto some rock in space where only he knows where to find them, but quickly rationalizes that that option is simply too risky. A magical barrier from his own magic reserves would do... He practically has an infinite amount to spare. Decision complete, he places his hands along the newly etched pages, an emerald smoke capturing whatever cerulean and golden light that had shined in the air, and smothers them under his own magic. Only a shockwave of pure energy bursts through and nearly strikes him. He narrowly evades it, and observes as his emerald magic is quickly overcome by the two Gem's own.

Officially irritated, he glides across the Vault's floor, attempting to cover it in a cage. This also backfires on him. He quietly growls, "If you two aren't going to be _behave_, I'm not afraid to say that I only have one option left." A sphere to pure emerald magic swirls menacingly in his palm, ready to be launched. His smile is positively feral as he stares them down. "I do believe you know what that means."

As if in response to his threat, the Oneiroi leaps from its mount, levitating in the air, its pages flapping erratically.

"If you honestly assume you can escape me," he begins ominously. "You are sadly mistaken."

But the Oneiroi is already flying away, frantically gaining speed every second, and he's off with it, a lithe cat chasing after a delirious mouse. Reflected images of himself scatter around vacant hallways, and the Oneiroi flinches back from all of them like it's a wounded cub. He's partially appalled by its sheer lack of ferocity, finding his chase to be entirely demeaning to his positon. It's dodging his every maneuver, and yet it also isn't making it too hard to catch. Some artifacts could've already been all the way to the other end of the universe by this point, the Tesseract being one of those artifacts, but it's not utilizing its potential. What's its intention?

"Are you attempting to show me something?" he mutters into the silence, hands clasped tightly behind his back. "If so, this method you're currently undertaking is entirely displeasurable."

The Oneiroi zips back into sight, prepared to flee if he threatens its destruction. "Just show me what you wish me to see, and be done with it. I have more important matters than your endeavors as an Infinity Gem, or should I say Gems, seeing as you scattered the Tesseract's power into your own pages?"

The Oneiroi doesn't really respond, instead it flitters precariously over a balcony overlooking the Eternal City and Bifrost. "Enough of that," he demands. "I don't threaten."

The pages stop moving, landing on a single page with moving symbols that he barely recognizes. It's a language as old as time itself, and he has to blink in order to fully grasp the words. "Midgard?" he questions into the air. "What's on Midgard?"

The pages flip again, revealing an image. His eyes narrow dangerously, murderously at the bindings. "What kind of jest is this? She is no one, a girl, a _mortal_." He spats the last word.

The Oneiroi seems angered by his lack of courtesy, and pages to another image. Of him and of her. "Do you desire an end that includes fire and brimstone?" he snarls, magic beginning to swirl around him in a vortex of emerald rage. "I could simply send you to Muspelheim to have that paper of yours burned to a charred crisp." The Oneiroi instantly tries to flee upon hearing these words, but it's snatched away by his hands. However, he doesn't realize until it's too late that he's been caught in a trap. Despite his weight, he's suddenly soaring across Asgard, dangling precariously over the Eternal City with only a levitating book to keep him from the ground and the sky.

He quickly places himself under in a invisibility spell, shielding himself from the treacherous eyes of others. Not even Heimdall would be able to see through it, but that's only a minor concern at this point. He cannot even fathom where this thing is planning on taking him... Then he stiffens in realization. "You dare to take me to Midgard?" he hisses through the wind.

No response. In fact, it's not until they reach the edge of the Eternal City, where oceans lead off the edge of the realm that he begins to panic. This thing... "No," he rasps, hands tightening against the leather backs. "Not through there, not through _those_." He would rather travel through Hel and back than through the wormholes of the universe. Luckily, a cerulean light radiates from the pages. The Tesseract... His eyes widen as pure energy engulfs his form in a column of electric blue, before he's violently transported to another location.

.

"Jane! What in the damn world have you _done_?" Darcy cries, shaking the girl in question by her shoulders. "I mean, you just broke up with _Thor_, you know, the man behind the _freaking_, _mythological_ _**legend**_?! _Why _would you do that?"

"Darcy," Jane starts, her voice only shaking a little. "I did this for myself."

"Jane! That's not a good enough reason! I. Want. To. Know. _Why_."

Her brows knit together. "Well, would you believe me if I told you that I simply don't love him like I thought I did?"

Darcy stops dead, her eyes wide, incredulous. "You don't love him."

Jane sighs, "I don't. Honestly, I don't think I ever really have."

Darcy's hands fall from her shoulders, thumping at her sides as they return to their owner. She takes a steadying breath, as if she's fully realizing the extent of the damage done and wrought, before she mutters ruefully, "And here I thought you were going to be his queen. Dang, I kinda wanted to be immortal too."

Jane cracks a small smile, thoughts of being Asgard's queen floating unkindly though her head. It isn't her role to play, somehow she thinks that it never has been. She isn't meant for a throne, the position would suit her ill. She's not a ruler, she's a finder. She's an inquirer of fate, of its design and of its many different sciences. She's also just Jane Foster. That's her role to play in the universe, and she knows that she isn't meant for anything more. She's not quite that special.

"So what now though, Boss?" Darcy asks softly. "We work for Stark Industries, become their leading researchers, and win a Nobel Prize?" She lifts a brow. "I personally would still rather be apart of the action, and I _know _that you do to."

She can't deny that. Being apart of Thor's grand adventures during his time on both Earth and Asgard had been the best that life's ever given her. "Yeah," she admits softly, smiling in remembrance of everything she had done within the last four years. "You know me well, Darcy, but that doesn't change anything."

When Darcy sighs, it's a shoulder-sagging, defeatedly accepting, sigh, one that means she understands that everything with Thor is truly over. She's just Darcy Lewis again, the political science major that had just happened to be placed under Jane Foster's team for college credit a few years back. Jane herself knows that the realization isn't exactly an easy one to shallow, but it's simply how things are going to be from this point onward. Then, a lump forms in her throat, desolating all other thoughts.

"Darcy," Jane breaths, and for the second time today she feels tears prickle at her eyes. "You know, you don't _have _to stay here."

Darcy is taken aback, before she stares at Jane as if she's speaking Elvish. "And miss out on winning a Nobel Prize?!" she asks incredulously. "No, thank you! Jane, I'm not going anywhere, you hear? _Anywhere_. You don't ever have to worry about that." Then she grins with a wink, "Besides, I'd give you at least a two-weeks notice beforehand."

Jane smiles at that, blinking back the tears and sniffles once to regain her usual posture. "Thank you, Darcy."

"Anytime, Boss," she smiles reassuringly. "But anyways, I know you'd like to be alone for a little while just to think things out. I know that that's your way of dealing, so I'll leave you be for awhile. I'll even try to get Eric out of the flat for awhile too, he's apparently in desperate need of some new clothes, specifically _underwear_." She grimaces at that. "Wish me luck."

She chuckles lightly, "See you later." The front door closes with a resounding smack a few minutes later, along with some banter from Eric and Ian about where they're planning on going. Then the flat becomes quiet, peacefully, dreadfully, quiet, and she sighs on the spot, finding herself slumping next to the sliding-glass window for comfort. Then she comes to realize just how tired she is, the pain and stress of the day collapsing in on her in a single moment.

Time goes on quickly afterwards, and before she even notices herself doing it, she has fallen asleep. It's only the grandfather clock in the foyer that wakes her up, a sonorous gong wafting around the flat at the stroke of midnight, and suddenly she feels as if she's in a movie, half asleep and barely aware of the world around her. She sleepily blinks her eyes, wondering what the sky looks like right about now.

Some part of her should realize that seeing the stars in the middle of London is practically impossible, even at night, but the fact slips her mind completely. She smiles, a twinge of childish wonder paining across her expression, and her heart beats expectantly. She's dreaming, she thinks, lost in a dream and asleep and she looks upward to the sky from her position. The stars glitter in a frenzy of rogue lights in a abyss of obsidian darkness, finding solstice in one another by forming constellations and building pictures. She sees other renegade stars too, unconnected to other constellations, and she blearily ponders if they're lonely being up there without friends, or even, a lover. It's a sad thought, one that she would be questioning again in the near future, but all other thoughts are stolen away in a single second as a shooting-star cascades across the sky.

Her mind races, however dreamily, with what she should wish for, and her day flashes before her mind, with Thor, and how she's been desiring another life. It may be entirely selfish, but her heart wants something, something that her current life just isn't giving her. She knows that she's probably just asking for too much, but she can't help her feelings anymore.

Without even thinking of its implications, she whispers, "I wish things could be different."

Then light, bright and powerful, flashes before her eyes, and Jane is left helpless as it comes straight at her.

.

Loki is not happy. Being dragged halfway across the universe by a damn book as a captain is not what he had signed up for. At velocities he cannot even comprehend, they fly mercilessly through space. They don't stop, not once, and Loki is holding on for dear life. They may be teleporting across the Nine Realms, but it goes one way and another, its motions jerky and volatile. From a distance, he can image that they appear to inhabitants as shooting-stars, which he would normally find rather amusing, had he not been _dragged across the damn universe_. He swears he will burn the pages of the Oneiroi when they land, but before he can even think another thought, Loki is abruptly taken from the scorching heat of Muspelheim to a living-room in Midgard, and the sudden change in velocity is enough to make him nearly fall over. Inertia is a terribly annoying force of nature, and he groans in displeasure as he slams against the back of a Midgardian couch. He breathes raggedly for a moment, reeling from the galactic travel he's had to do.

Then he hears a whispering, almost trembling voice that he hadn't been expecting, "Loki..."

His gaze snaps to attention, and his voice is grave with understanding as he utters, "Jane Foster."

.

Jane had screamed when the light had crashed through her glass-door, shattering through the glass with a stark crack. She's terribly lucky that she hadn't been injured, or worse yet, killed by it, and she watches in a morbid horror as she sees just _what _had crashed through her door. Having lept away from the projectile light, Jane is lying on the floor, hair pooling around her as she looks up and through her auburn locks. Her heart stops.

"Loki..." she whispers, trembling.

Smoking slightly, yet entirely unruffled by his projectile-like landing, he stands, his eyes closed for a moment, catching his breath. He's all height, strength, and darkness as Jane stares at him, adorned in the same emerald and ebony armor with slicked back raven hair. But most of all, he's living, breathing even-which shouldn't make any sense. In fact, it _doesn't _make any sense, her mind tells her. She had watched him die! Had watched him _die_. The dead didn't just rise from whatever place they went to for an afterlife! It just doesn't work that way! How he's standing in her flat, in London, over a year later, did not make any sense.

Then he gaze tracks right back to her, and Jane attempts to stand. "Jane Foster," he greets, and she swallows thickly as she gets to her full height.

"You're alive," she says, her voice only quivering a little.

"That I am," he begins, and he starts towards her. "Where's the book?"

Jane is at a loss, and she fights for calm as he prowls towards her purposefully. "What are you doing here, Loki?" she asks, refusing to take any steps away from him.

"The Oneiroi," he mutters distastefully. "The damn book that took me here on your order, where is it?"

"Excuse me?" she demands, the a little fire returning to her voice, but before she can continue, his piercing emerald eyes search hers with the precision of a practiced lie detector. "And the better question would be why _you _brought _me _here. I don't intend to humor myself with the idea that you simply desire my presence."

Her hands shoot outward to put some distance between them. "Whoa, whoa there, Mister. I have no idea what you're even talking about. I've never even heard of the Oneiroi, and how are you even alive?" she asks a little most urgently. "I _saw _you die."

His eyes narrow. "Such matters do not matter now," he tells her darkly. "Where is the book?"

At this, her expression becomes flat. "I. Don't. Know." Inwardly she's frantically questioning how she's this calm in front of a person who had died in front of her, but some part of her, some distant, dreamlike part of her, isn't entirely surprised to see him here. Some part of her had known he would come, which only confuses her even more. Since when have myth and magic overpowered her coldly intellectual mind?

He pauses, before he whispers mysteriously, "You really don't know, do you?" His gaze then flicks to the room, to the shattered glass and her darkened apartment.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," she retorts blandly. _Where is this coming from? _she inwardly asks herself.

Then he smiles, a feral, Cheshire Cat-like smile and instantly a shot of wariness thrums through her veins. "You have fire, Jane Foster. Perhaps this is why _it _chose you? But all is well so long as you haven't wished for anything, dreams are only meant for the righteous, after all."

_I'm dreaming,_ she rationalizes then, the word striking a chord in her thoughts_. I'm just dreaming this! He's not real! _And for some strange, enigmatic reason, a burst of giddiness causes her to giggle, "I'm dreaming." She snorts a laugh. "I'm totally, completely dreaming. You're not even real! Ha!" She even has the gall to playfully push on his shoulder.

His irritated confusion flares, and he grabs her hand with a threatening grip meant for a predator, and the contact is enough to stop her ministrations. "This is no dream, mortal," he bites out. "This is quite real, and do not forget that." He then throws her hand away from him, disgusted.

Looking away from her, he finally finds the item he's been searching for. Snatching it away from the shattered glass, he notes with distaste that it's open to another image: one of her peacefully gazing up at the stars, but with a single shooting-star far into the distance. He reads through the passage at the side for more explanation, his dread only increasing after every word.

_And so, the young maiden of Midgard wishes upon the dream-star, her own dreams-once locked away deep inside-about to expand into a world beyond reason, beyond understanding. By its magic she will receive far more than what she had ever wanted previously, for all she had ever wanted before was something different than what life had given her, and the book gave her that: something different. At her side, a prince of darkness and magic follows her into this world against his will, but whose heart will change into something miraculously wonderful by her hopes and dreams, but most importantly by her heart. _

And he cracks.

Inside of Loki, a force of rage and unprecedented revoltion is bridged together to form the ultimate darkness. His magic, viridescently green, begins to swirl around him in a whirlwind of chaotic emotions, conjured and riveting against him. His breathing begins to quicken, his shoulders rising and falling as animosity overcomes his intense mischief, and the book trembles in his hands, by his own shaking hands. High on magic and adrenaline, created from sheer hatred, he turns back to the only other occupant of his nightmare, his eyes glowing a lethal emerald as he glares her down.

Jane's jaw drops, but she finds she cannot speak. Their gazes connect in a collision course meant to destroy, meant to shatter all that surrounds them. A spike of fear trails down her spine, and she feels the temperature of the room drop dangerously cold. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and newborn chills rack her body. Even her breath comes out in puffs.

He stalks towards her, steps no longer purposeful and arrogant, but defining and deadly. The walk of a predator before its prey, and this time, Jane does back away. She now knows that this is no dream, it never has been. It's cold, painful, reality, and she had apparently upset a once dead prince to make him look at her in such a way. "W-what is it?" she stumbles, both in word and footing. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You wished upon that star," he growls, backing her into a corner and slamming the book to the ground. Jane flinches as he lands a hard fist right above her head, before whispering seductively into her ear. "You wanted something different." She can't see the icy smile that spreads across his lips for a second, but he quickly backs away, putting just enough distance between them so that she can feel his breath on her face as he breathes. Then Loki chuckles, a mirthless rumble of impending rage, "You just happened to wish upon the one, _single _thing in this entire universe that can actually grant you what you want: something different." His eyes meet hers, and the dark gleam in them makes her breath hitch in rising fear. "Let me assure you, Jane Foster, that you won't be disappointed."

Jane is at a standstill, her heart beating at a pace she has never experienced before. Her mind is gnarled with inquiries, troubled and fearful of whatever possible outcome she apparently set for herself, if Loki's words are anything to go by. _What is going on?_

"I don't understand," she hears herself saying. "What's happening? I wished upon a star, yes, but what does have to do with you? Wh-why are you here? H-how are _you _even here?"

"Apparently, I'm going to have to spell it out for you," he breathes, and the shiver that he causes doesn't escape his notice. "Oneiroi, why don't you explain just what consequences you have wrought?"

Jane absently hears the pages of a book flapping, quickly paging through sheets along a hard binding, and she's about to ask who exactly 'Oneiroi' is, but a levitating book appears in her line of sight, just behind Loki, and her eyes widen in disbelief. "That's the Oneiroi?"

He takes a step back from her, and she slumps against the wall as the book carries itself animatedly into her open arms, glowing with a golden and cerulean light. The current page inscribes the same passage as what Loki had read, and her chest tightens in both wonder and shock, tearing at her. Only, he had stopped before the Oneiroi had finished its say and she reads on.

_To begin their journey across her dreamworld, the prince has to kiss the hand of the girl, for even despite his misgivings, he is still a prince, and chivalry is a part of that job. Begrudgingly, he does so, and the two are swept into a world they cannot control, into the largest fantasies she could ever create. There is also no other way to return to their own world, for where they began is held together by spacetime, by the book's magical properties. The only way back is to begin, and then return. This is the story of the stars, dreams, and other faults. _

As she finishes, the smoking green haze of his magic has retreated a little from his form and she faintly wonders whether or not she will enjoy this. The Oneiroi has given her an opportunity for something different, for something that maybe she would strive and search for. Maybe this is how she will return to herself once more, back to wanting the stars and her research and that Nobel Prize that Darcy has always joked about getting. Perhaps the only way to reality is through her dreams.

"Loki," she says, and this time it's strong and clear. She feels like Jane again. "Tell me that this isn't some jest and there's no way out of this and I'll just find some way to actually believe this?"

His magic crackles around him. "This isn't a jest, nor is there a way out of this. I've already tried."

She knows that he's not content with this, and she also questions how the Oneiroi had brought him here, and why it had brought him here, to her. She has never once considered him to be more than Thor's brother-his dead brother more recently-but something tells her that he'll relent and tell her the truth behind his death. Along the way, she might even figure out why he's here in the first place, so she walks right up to him and simply tells him, "Then kiss my hand and let's get this over with."

He raises a brow. "Are you trying to tell me that my lips are the trigger to exiting one world and entering another?"

She sighs, "That basically sums up what it told me."

Quickly, deliberately, he takes her hand and raises it to his lips. He makes a show of it, observing her reaction as he takes the last final movement with his kiss. She feels electricity course through her veins instantly, his touch igniting a power she can't even fathom. A part of her doesn't even want to.

But then, light swallows them whole, and before she knows it, she's somewhere else entirely.

.

.

.

**Stars, Dreams, and Other Faults**

**Updated: March 15, 2015 (Sunday)**

**Author's Note:**

_**Note: **__Oneiroi_ _means __dream_ _in Ancient Greek. Due to all the other Infinity Stones within the MCU having an Ancient Greek origin, other than the Orb, I decided to make my own with the Soul Gem, considering it has yet to be introduced :)_

_Well hello readers! I can't say whether or not I'm excited or terrified for this story to be published, simply because it could either be a hit or just plain neglected. I haven't the slightest idea... So anyways, I got the idea from reading 'Broken Things', quite possibly my favorite fanfiction ever, and another Lokane story if you want to read it yourself. It's also a multiverse-styled story, and after I read it I just had so many ideas that would've only worked as one-shots, but can now be combined into a single story! _

_And for more Lokane stories, I'll be adding two more stories before I plan on adding another chapter, so wish me luck! _

_Please review, and alert me for errors in spelling or grammar if you please. Until next time!_

_-Cassandra_


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